Safe in Mexico City!

Well I`m here. Sorry about `, but I can`t find the apostrophe key on this keyboard. At this very moment I`m preparing to go meet my first host family, which grieves me slightly because it means I will be leaving the cleanest, nicest, cheapest hostel I´ve ever stayed in. Coyote Flaco Backpackers, should you ever be in Mexico City.

Yesterday I ventured to Teotihuacan, and along the way learned my first important travel lesson – one should know the value of the local currency. Not that I´m blaming anyone, but the whole misadventure began when, still in the United States, I called my bank to inform them I would be using my debit card abroad. The teller very politely informed me that my request for foreign travel would take two business days to process. That´s fair right? Fairness aside, this information proved problematic, for I had waited until the day before I left to call. But I sucked it up – got some pesos in the Phoenix Airport and decided they would just have to last until Saturday. Well, they didn`t – only I didn`t know that until I stepped through the gates of Teotihuacan and realized that after admission I hadn`t enough pesos to pay the bus fair back to Mexico City. I had been confusing the amount of zeros used in USDs and pesos for the past couple of days, it just seemed a bummer that this confusion would come to a head while sitting atop the Pyramid of the Sun (which is magnificent by the way – steep, but magnificent).

So there I was walking along the Avenue of the Vendors, excuse me the Avenue of the Dead, estimating how long it would take me to walk the hour bus trip back to the capital, when I heard a set of familiar accents behind me. They went to Georgetown and where happy to trade me the $3 for 30 pesos I would need for a bus ticket back. I had to reframe from hugging them as we parted in front of the Pyramid of the Moon.

I visited an ATM this morning, had no problems, and vow to never be without again.